A tale of a Wolf and Dragon - and a Lion
by MizzMarie729
Summary: Jon and Sansa find themselves in a complicated situation with their desires for one another. Jon thinks that maybe he can shake his feelings by trying to be with the dragon queen. A double love triangle ensues and complicates thing as someone ends up betrayed. Going to start with flashbacks to behind the scenes of the last few scenes of the season then... full summary inside. Jonsa
1. Behind the scenes

Summary: Jon finds himself torn at the worst possible time. Stuck between the feelings that have grown for his sister, and the attraction he feels towards the dragon queen asking him to bend the knee. Shock, doubt, mistrust, and questions arise as the North discovers Jon's true parentage. Daenerys still finds herself leaning towards Jon, causing confusion as someone will end up betrayed and hearts crushed. Things become difficult when Jaime and Sansa grow a connection, and Jon finds out Sansa isn't his sister. This is going to be a pre-season 8 as it will be mostly flash backs of behind the scenes not shown between the time lines of this seasons episodes. So much was left out. It may do some jumping as the character reflect on hidden scenes we didn't see as well as scenes they did see.

* * *

Sansa sat in the Godwood, her mind racing - her thoughts clouded. The cold freeze that over took Winterfell nipped at her aggressively, but her thoughts were to deep to notice. It had been only days nearly a week since Jon had left to meet the dragon queen. Sansa closed her eyes, going back to their last argument. They had grown close since retaking Winterfell, and despite their political disagreements, _and her stubbornness to be heard despite her gender_ , they had many tender moments in private. Sometimes he would surprise her in her room with a lemon cake, usually with a silent apology hanging in the air. He didn't owe her one, but it wasn't like Jon to ever point out blame. Sometimes his honest and noble tendencies irked her - because she worried for him like no one else.

Sometimes Sansa would look at him - studying his strong features. She knew her mother hated him because he looked most like Ned, but she didn't see it. She saw a stranger, someone who was present at certain points of her childhood, but even less so then Theon: who was the ward of her father. She felt guilty for still not seeing Jon as a brother, not like she saw Bran or Rickon, but she did see him as a Stark. She both admired and hated his stubbornness, only because it mirrored her own in a way. They would find themselves in little quarrels and disagreements, but by the end of the evening one or the other showed up with a peace offering.

She remembered how angry she was when Jon told her that he planned to go to mine dragon glass. She knew that he named her his successor not just because he believed in her, but because he wanted to silence her. He knew her better then she thought he did sometimes. Jon was impressive that night, the way he listened to her yell at him when no one could hear, the way he quietly countered her arguments.

 _"Sansa you know it has to be me," he said sitting in his seat watching her pace the fire, her red hair glowing with the flames, her cheeks red with anger. The room was warm and he could see she was flushed. He smiled softly as he remembered these small features of her. He wondered if it was because he wanted to finally see her as a sister, or if because he was afraid that if he didn't return he would forget her face. He didn't know why, and he hoped she didn't notice the way he watched her, the way he always watched her - since the moment she walked through castle black. He let himself pretend for awhile that it was because he wanted to be a protective brother, but he felt ashamed that he couldn't see her as a sister… not the way he saw Arya as his sister._

 _She continued to talk on, reminding him how he needed to be smarter, and better then Ned and Robb. He knew she repeated this because she thought he didn't listen, but he did. She paced and she paced, the skirts of her dress sweeping the floor. She was so deep in speech that she hadn't even noticed him stand up and walk towards her. Two strong hands grabbing her firmly._

" _Sansa," he said with force. She stopped for a moment, unaware she had become instantly mesmerized, "everything will be alright."_

" _But what if it isn't?" she asked feeling a strange fear in the pit of her stomach, "you don't have to always be the brave one, Jon. It's okay to rely on others every now and then."_

" _If something happens to me, Winterfell and the North will have you," he said gently, a hand stroking the back of her hair. She loved the way he would touch her, yet never in front of others. But somehow it always felt intimate: from a kiss on the forehead to a squeeze of the hand. Siblings didn't act this way – she wondered what others would think. His eyes dug deep into hers, and he found himself speechless for a moment._

" _If she hurts you I will kill her," Sansa said it fiercely and he knew she meant it, "I will take the North against her. A dragon is no match for a wolf."_

" _Aye, not a wolf like you," Jon chuckled, he knew that a dragon would probably eat a wolf, but Northern women like Sansa were far too few and he could see her wreaking havoc. Sansa stared into his eyes smelling the ale on his breath, and for some reason her heart fluttered in response to the sound of his chuckle. Sansa thought she never wanted a man to touch her again, but she felt something strange inside of her at the idea of Jon being so close. Her hand reached up tracing the scar on his face, and his eyes closed feeling the warmth of her hand._

 _He was surprised as she usually didn't instigate any kind of physical connection, he assumed it was from what she faced with Ramsay and Joffrey. He was usually the one to brush against her, or to connect with her by kissing her forehead, her hand, or her cheek. He found himself stunned that before he could stop it - he had placed his lips onto hers. The warmth of her lips and the smell of lemon on her breath intoxicated him. He pulled back quickly, but she had not responded right away only stared blankly at him. He had crossed a line, and he didn't know how to fix such a mistake._

 _Before Jon could apologize Sansa crashed her lips against his so aggressively he thought she had been possessed. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she pushed her breast up against his chest. This was so not like Sansa, and he wondered what had taken over her. She felt his arms wrap around her back as he pulled her closer to him. Jon met Sansa's feverish kisses, her tongue reaching into his mouth to taste him. She let a moan slip as his fingers tangled into her hair. For a moment he wondered if she was trying to get something from him._

" _Sansa," he tried to breathe but she would not let him get another word in, her lips crushing into his desperate to devour him if possible. Jon had gently pushed her backwards up against a wall, their passion flowing unbridled as he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist. A knock at the door caught them off guard bringing them back to reality. He release her letting her drop as they backed away from each other, awkwardly trying to readjust themselves._

" _Your grace," Davos said as he walked into to see both Jon and Sansa disheveled, "is now a good time…?"_

" _Can it wait a moment?" Jon said slightly out of breath, awkwardly glancing over at Sansa who had turned to face the fire - hoping to hide her red cheeks._

" _Aye, of course, I'll return later," Davos looked at them suspiciously, but the onion knight knew his place wasn't to ask questions. He would speak with his King later._

" _Sansa?" Jon asked awkwardly after Davos closed the door._

" _Hm?" Sansa muttered turning to look at him, her hand covering her mouth, her chest still heaving from nerves and excitement._

" _I'm sorry," he didn't know what else to say, "I acted…"_

" _We acted, Jon… you and I," she said it so casually he almost for a second didn't feel guilty about what he did with his sister. More importantly what he would have done had he not been broken away from his impulsion, "I know what you are going to say…"_

" _You do?" he asked stepping towards her._

" _Don't say it…" her voice cracked and for a moment he saw a glimpse of the girl she was, not the hardened Lady she was forced to become._

" _I have to," his voice broke to, he didn't want to say it. It wasn't right. Ned would hang him. The North would disown them. Incest was not the Northern way, and cousin relations were the only really still practiced in the North._

" _No one has to know," Sansa pleaded in a near whisper. She stepped towards him, but he put his hands up to motion for her to stop. She didn't listen._

" _You are my sister, Sansa," Jon said his fingers wrapping around her shoulders to firmly hold her at distance. But she struggled anyways - breaking free._

" _Do you really see me as your sister? Have you ever felt any kind of sibling bond?" Sansa asked with teary eyes, she hated herself for looking so weak at that moment. She couldn't deny she had wondered about his kiss far before now._

" _It doesn't matter what I see or feel, if anyone found out…" Jon shook his head and turned away, "I am not a Targaryen, they have a reputation for incest and that is one reason why they are so despised. How do we ask the North to remain loyal to us when we follow the same wicked path of Cersei and Jaime, as well as the Targaryen's?"_

" _Jon," she said firmly but then stopped._

" _Sansa, I love you…" Jon looked her in the eyes, "I don't know what that means just yet, all I know is its dangerous to be anything other than family."_

 _" Don't go, I will do anything you ask – I swear it," Sansa made one last desperate plea._

" _I must," he said. His heart aching as he watched her turn to leave. He knew she wanted power, but at this moment he could see to his surprise - she wanted him more. Whatever way that may be, it gave him a strange feeling of comfort. His silence though spoke volumes, and with a sad broken heart Sansa left without another word._

 _The next morning Jon had visited the crypts praying that his father would forgive him for kissing his sister when Little Finger had appeared. He thought of everything Sansa went through and because of it Peytr's voice grated at his innards making him want to rip him apart. He hated leaving Sansa alone with him, but he knew she had Brienne… and he had a great admiration for Brienne's skill and loyalty._

 _Finally Little Finger said the one thing he couldn't handle, his claim to love Sansa – HIS Sansa. His anger boiled over and he found his hand wrapped firmly around Little Finger's throat, squeezing until his own fingers ached. All he could manage to mutter out was, "touch my sister and I'll kill you myself."_

 _The word sister burned like the ashes of an ember in his mouth, but he needed there to be power in his statement. He knew it would get through to Little Finger more clearly this way, that and he didn't need him to speculate on their relationship. He felt something strange at the thought of it - their relationship. Confusion leading to pain because he could never really have her. What future could there be for them?_

 _Sansa had watched Jon as he left the crypt, and climbed upon his horse. He had called for her that morning, but she couldn't bear to say goodbye. She was still humiliated from the rejection. She memorized every line of his weak attempt at a smile, the one that said he was sorry and that he would miss her. She tried to smile back, but it hurt – but like always she stood regal and tall. Raising her hand in response to his farewell, wishing he would leap from his horse and run to her. Little Finger nearly missed it, but caught enough of the moment to see what was really happening. He could see that the reason he had lost control of Sansa was her heart belonged to another. He now knew what else it was she wanted, and that she couldn't have. As always, he calculated how he could use this to his benefit._

Sansa snapped out of her daze, her thumb brushing her lips that she swore were still lit on fire from his kiss. She could still feel his breath against her skin. She wondered if he thought of her, and if he was safe. She was too prideful to send a raven, and though she hoped she would stop feeling a need for him – each day the need grew stronger.

Sansa stood to walk the gods wood. Another thought playing in her mind as she saw Bran sitting in the distance. He watched her. She felt uneasy with Bran, the boy she called her brother was now someone else – a stranger: as was her returned sister. He lifted a hand in a single motion, a simple gesture easily read. One similar eerily similar to the one Jon did before he rode away. She still hesitated to raise her hand in return, his face stoic and void of emotion.

"Sansa," Bran greeted as she slowly stepped towards him observing how he was buried under layers of thick fur that reminded her of Jon. She had hoped that Jon wearing what she made him was a sign that he returned her feelings, and that when he rode away with it he was taking a piece of her with him, "he does miss you."

"What?" she asked kneeling before her crippled brother.

"Jon, you wonder about him. His feelings for you – for this family, guide his every action," Bran threw the last part in to save his sister the embarrassment. He knew she did not know what he knew. He knew he could not tell her until he told Jon first, "he will do something he regrets…"

"What do you mean Bran?" she asked hesitantly, "will he get hurt?"

"He is already hurting, Sansa, it's his desire to relieve his pain that leads him to make a bad choice," Bran looked her in the eyes and she knew that she could not fool him, "remember this later on - when you wish to put him on trial in your heart."

"I suppose you've seen my wickedness," Sansa looked down ashamed. It was hard to act proud and noble before someone who can see anything he wanted.

"Not wickedness," Bran laid a hand on her hair, the first affection he had showed her, she froze afraid of losing this moment. He smiled weakly, she couldn't tell if he was faking or trying to be genuine, "…human."

"I am scared because of my past," Sansa admitted, as if the truth could not be kept to herself.'

"You are strong because of your past," Bran reminded her, "which is why I wonder why you are stuck in your dilemma. I see two choices and I don't see you choosing. _Little Finger…_ "

 _Sansa sat in her chair, disturbed by the thoughts plaguing her mind. Little Finger stood as usual, a visual reminder of the power he held over her. He watched her. Claimed her with his eyes. She reckognized the look in his eyes, the same look all bad men wanted from her – but he was more then a bad man. He was a smart man. Smart men are dangerous men, and she had the most dangerous of smart men before her._

 _He whispered in her ear against Jon and Arya as he had for days. He reminded her of how the people loved her, and they grew angrier with Jon. He played on her desire for Winterfell, for her family, for her freedom. He played on her fears, of Cersei, of what a man could physically do to her, and now a fear she didn't realize he knew about. He had started talking to her and she zoned out a bit until she heard what she hoped to not here._

" _The dragon queen is quite beautiful," Baelish added in breaking her distracted daze._

" _What does that have to do with anything?" Sansa grew restless and uncomfortable, she could see the play brewing in his eyes, he saw how he could wedge himself into the cracks in Sansa's strength._

" _Jon is young and unmarried, Daenerys is young and unmarried…"_

" _You think he wants to marry her?" she couldn't hide the anger or disgust at the idea, but she had hoped that Little Finger missed the jealousy in her tone. Her world began to spin, and all she could see was an invisible beautiful queen with silver hair touching her Jon._

"Sansa?" Bran broke Sansa from her thought.

"Hmmm?"

"You have a question… ask it," Bran added.

Sansa told Bran of what Arya had been doing, and what Little Finger was saying. She told him of how she didn't trust him and the things he did to her even though she knew he knew. Bran told her about what he saw, Little Finger holding the dagger to Ned's throat. Sansa was relieved to know that her ill feelings about Baelish were for a reason.

Jon stood at the edge of the boat, the wind pushing against him, as he felt panic rise inside of him. All he could think of was red hair and soft fair skin. Sansa's lips brushing against his own, and the feelings he had developed towards her. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't shake them. It wasn't until a comment from Davos that he realized that maybe Daenerys could be the answer to his problem. It was then that he had started trying to force himself to feel something for the Dragon queen.

He needed to move on from Sansa and Daenerys was certainly beautiful. He thought back to the moment he had just had with the dragon queen, he had taken her to bed in hopes it would scrub him of his wicked thoughts… but when he looked down at her in the moment of passion, he would see Sansa. It didn't matter how hard he tried to be in the moment with Daenerys somehow his thoughts would turn to Sansa.

A guilt crept in slowly devouring him, wondering what would happen should Sansa find out. Daenerys was essentially an easy target which made him feel even more guilty. He needed her army and dragons, and he needed to move on from his feelings for Sansa… and she made it so easy for him. He knew the moment they met the way she looked at him was like the way he looked at Sansa.

He sighed as he rested his face in his hands. He was putting himself further and further into a situation he wasn't sure he could handle. He couldn't be with Sansa, she was his sister. At the same time there was Daenerys, she was convenient, she was there and easily accessible, but the North would never go for another Targaryen he wasn't stupid enough to believe the North would bend the knee simply because he did.

 _He had been ready to leave and never look back. He didn't care about the war that was brewing, the white walkers, the nights watch, or even the wildlings at that moment. He was full of anger and hate. Anger and hate for the brothers who turned against him, for the father who did not warn him, for the family he grew up without._

 _When he stood onto the balcony and watched her enter through the gates his breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful, and for a moment he did not recognize who the strange women were. It took a moment for him to realize the beautiful vision before him was Sansa -the true born daughter that never acknowledged his existence._

 _No thought of turning her away for the way she treated him crossed his mind. All he could think of was holding her in his arms. He knew who she was but she was a stranger. A connection binding them together, something tearing at his insides he had never felt before. From that moment on he would devote everything to keeping her safe. She was the reason he decided to not give up. Every precious moment they spent alone together was another reason to fight. Each touch big or small gave him a hope he feared. Each time she challenged his authority he hated it but at the same time appreciated that they had become so close she felt comfortable speaking up._

 _It hurt him to be away from her. It hurt him to think of her with another. He knew the moment Baelish said he loved Sansa he wanted to ring his neck. The moment he met Ramsay and knowing only what she would tell and piecing the rest together, he hated the Bolton boy – and he wanted him dead. He hated the idea of anyone touching his Sansa. He worried if the longer he was gone the closer Baelish would get to her, or worst she met someone knew who could take her away unlike Little Finger._

 _Jon had written Sansa a thousand letters, mostly rewrites, some expressing his love for her some wishing her a happy life – but all ended in the fire. He decided that sending her letters would only complicate things or make them worst, so he sent few updates that were vague. But all he wanted was to tell her of how he thought of her lips every day, and how he missed the way her hair danced like fire. The smell of her after a fresh bath, the taste of lemon cake lingering on her lips, the sweet bell like movement of her graceful movements. He wanted to tell her he missed her. That he needed her. That he wanted to be with her. But he couldn't, his honor would not allow it. He could see shore coming into view, it would not be long now before they reached the shore – and he would have to face Sansa._


	2. Chapter 2: Wolves don't cower to Dragons

Authors note: Thank you so much for reading. I LOVE reviews, so please feel free to share with me your thoughts. I will now be starting them off where everything left off.

Jon watched as Winterfell came into view. The castle stood tall beneath all the white snow, even with the dead marching upon them. Jon could feel Daenerys' eyes on him, she was much less conspicuous then himself. He hid well what had happened, but she seemed unable to control her emotions. Something he noticed more and more. Something he could foresee being an issue in the future.

Jon thought of Sansa, and how they had parted. He could see her so vividly in his mind. He wondered what she thought of him now, knowing that he had bent the knee to the dragon queen. She never replied, which was unlike her. He wondered how Arya and Bran were, he couldn't wait to see them. Finally, they had reached the gates, and Jon gave Daenerys a weak smile. He knew she must be nervous, and more so he knew the North was stubborn.

Jon led his group into the castle, taking in his family home once more - every time it felt more like home then the last. He could hear her voice echoing in the distance. It sounded like music to his ears. She sounded strong and like a leader. Sansa even when she was mad had learned to think rationally and speak rationally, unlike the rash dragon queen at times from Tyrion had told him. Sansa was kind but firm, she made a perfect queen.

"Sansa," Jon's voice echoed, interrupting Sansa's meeting with a few of the lords. Sansa stopped mid speech, and stared at Jon opened mouth. She went to smile but it faded when Daenerys stepped beside him, a little closer than one should be with their subject.

"Jon!" Arya was quickly in front of him. Jon's face lit up when he saw his little sister, embracing her in a large hug before setting her back down, "I knew we would see each other again!"

"I have missed you," he said not wanting to lie, he never thought he would see her again – he had thought she was dead.

"I've learned a lot while away," Arya smiled wickedly, "I'd love to show you sometime."

"Aye – so you shall," Jon gave her another small squeeze, "where is Bran?"

"In the Godswood," Sansa finally spoke up.

"Can I have a moment alone with my sister?" Jon asked looking at the lords who did not greet him as their King, and Jon knew at that moment he had lost the trust of the North with his choice to bend the knee. They did not budge until Sansa nodded her head.

"Arya why don't you show our – _guests_ – around?" Sansa glared at Daenerys without any fear.

"We will all meet in the great hall shortly," Jon said to those with him, "we need to touch base."

"Of course," Davos said feeling the icy sting of the northerner's attitude. Jon had lost the faith of his people, and Davos wasn't sure how to get it back.

When the others left the room fell silent, only Jon and Sansa left. Their eyes locked but neither could say a thing. Sansa finally stood up and walked around the table silently, she looked at the ground trying to hide her shame and her jealousy. Jon ignored Sansa's attitude and pulled her close to him, his arms wrapping around her tightly. It took her a moment to respond, but eventually she wrapped her arms around him as well. They stayed there for a moment in the embrace, neither wanting to let go. She smelled of lemon and honey, and he smelled of – Jon. A smell she missed.

"I am sorry I ever left," Jon said softly, his mouth muffled in her hair, "I should have never left."

"No, you shouldn't have," Sansa tried to hold back her tears.

"But now we have the men we need to fight this war," Jon tried to remind himself more so then her of why he had to leave. Sansa was the first to break away from the hug.

"She's pretty," Sansa said it like acid had formed in her mouth.

"Aye," Jon said awkwardly. He wanted to tell her how much prettier he thought she was then the dragon queen.

"I see why you chose her to be _your_ queen," Jon could hear the double meaning in Sansa's wording.

"I bent the knee, I didn't take her as my queen," Jon tried to clarify but it was hard to say none the less, "she is a fair person. She would make a much better ruler then I."

"The North will not now nor ever recognize a Targaryen as their ruler ever again, and nor will I," Sansa turned from him and walked a few steps away. It was silent between them, she couldn't find the words to say, but she knew she had to know, "did… did you bed her?"

"Sansa," Jon said quickly. He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him, "do not ask me this."

"Why not?" Sansa knew Jon to be to honest for his own good. She wished he would lie to her just this once if she was right, "answer me Jon."

"Sansa…" Jon said more softly, his voice pleading.

"Answer me!" Sansa lost her temper for a change, her voice echoing through the hall. Sansa longed to touch Jon to feel his lips again, but she knew this would break her – yet she still needed to know.

"Yes," he said softly.

"Oh," was all she could say as she stepped away from him, his hand falling from her arm.

"Sansa," he said in a desperate whisper.

"I killed him for you…" her words were soft and emotional, tears pricking at her eyes. Jon was confused by her words, "I will never forgive you, Jon. Never."

"Sansa," Jon tried to step towards her but Sansa had turned to stone in front of him. The emotion wiped from her face, and her eyes glazed over. It was as if she had disappeared and traded places with someone else.

"You can leave now," Sansa pointed to the door.

* * *

Jon found Arya training in the court yard, she had reunited with The Hound, and she was eager to show him her new tricks. Jon watched Arya for a moment, and was surprised to see how she had changed. So much had changed. They all had been greatly effected by the choices made from others. He loved his father, but Ned had cost them all greatly with his stubbornness to do what he thought was right. Jon knew Sansa was right when she told him to not be like him or Robb. Sansa could see the weakness in men, and the weakness in their family – and of course had hadn't listen. He had taken things too far with the dragon queen, he felt a fondness for her a duty towards her but Jon knew he did not feel the way she looked at him.

Did he use for political reasons? Or make things worse? Did he use her to move on from his own feelings of loneliness for the person he wanted but couldn't have? Maybe it was better that Sansa was angry with him. The North would not rally beside a brother seducing his half-sister, nor would it for a King they made who bent the knee and bedded yet another foreigner.

"Where is Bran?" Jon asked Arya, "why wasn't he with Sansa in the great hall?"

"Bran… he's changed," Arya said it softly, as if she wanted to protect Jon from the reality of the new brand, "he is the three-eyed raven now."

"I heard in a letter," Jon put his arm around Arya as Daenerys walked up with Missendi beside her. She did not seem pleased by Jon and Arya's interaction.

"So, you are the dragon queen we heard of?" Arya asked, her tone sounded fiercer then it meant. She was worried about Jon, and she wondered if she needed to protect him from the silver haired usurper.

"I am," Daeny eyed Arya up and down, before looking away to Jon, "time is wasted with this. My dragon did not die for you to linger about."

"It will be a moment, I promise," Jon tried to smile, but he could see she was bothered.

"The dead will not wait," Daenerys repeated the words he had spoken before. She turned her demeaner seeming to have changed.

* * *

Sansa stood on her favorite wall of Winterfell, the one her and Jon spent many quiet moments together. Some not so quiet moments as well. She let out a deep breath as the wind turned to smoke before her. She heard footsteps and let out a sigh before turning to confront Jon.

"I do not wish to speak to you…" she said as she spun around startled by the person before her.

"Hello my long lost wife," Tyrion teased as he stood before her.

"Lord Tyrion," Sansa said as memories and feelings she had willingly forgotten flooded back. He could see she was surprised by his random visit.

"I came to see you have been well," Tyrion took her hand and kissed it, "I always knew you would survive us all…"

"The long night is not yet over," Sansa said as she hugged her furs.

"And yet you have witnessed worse," he said regrettably.

"I suppose. I have known many monsters in my short time," Sansa said turning from him to look back over the wall. Watching the white flood of snow still falling. He was silent as he stood beside her, he had hoped she would be more inclined to speak with her once upon a time husband. He was turning when she caught him by surprise, "you were never one of those monsters. You were kind to me once, even as a Lannister, when no one else was. I am older now and I can see what a child could not see in her misfortunes."

"How kind of you to say," he tilted his head in respect and she gave a small smile.

"But you are still a Lannister," she said looking down at him, "how do I not know you will not betray us for your sister?"

"I have a new queen," Tyrion said, "and my sister has wanted me dead longer then she has desired your head."

"Tell me about your new _queen,_ " Sansa said bitterly.

"Don't you mean our queen?" Tyrion teased lightly, but the look she gave him did not give him any warm feelings.

"I kneel to no foreign queen. I am not an idiot like Jon, I will not bend the knee for a pretty face and a couple of dragons," her tone said everything Tyrion needed to know about Sansa now, he could hear the way it dripped with jealousy.

"I heard Lord Baelish was here," Tyrion tried to change the subject.

"I killed him," she said without looking at him, still staring into the distance, Tyrion could see how the world had made Sansa hard as stone. She looked more like a queen than ever. At that moment, he wondered if he had chosen the wrong queen to bet on. Should he have betted on a wolf to protect the seven kingdoms rather than a dragon who promises fire and blood?

"Tyrion?" Daenerys voice cut at Sansa like knives making her cringe. She hated her already.

"My Queen," Tyrion said slowly taking his eyes off Sansa, and for a moment Daenerys felt something sting inside her at the way Tyrion gazed longingly at Sansa. The way he would look at her until recently. He looked at Sansa liked a queen.

"The meeting is about to start," Daenerys said after a short pause, "I will meet you there."

"As you wish," Tyrion bowed his head to his queen before turning to Sansa, "until we meet again lady Sansa."

"Lord Tyrion," she gestured a nod to him, finally looking him in the eyes. Her blue eyes icy cold yet burning with blue flames. For a moment, he thought he would lose his breath as he stepped backwards and took his leave.

"I have longed to meet Jon's family, Sansa am I right?" Daenerys smiled as she walked to the red headed woman before her.

"You would be correct," she said glancing over at Daeny before looking away again, "I am Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell."

"Of course," Daenerys faked another smile, "Jon cares for you, his _sister_ and the rest of his family, and I care about Jon."

"You cared about his crown," Sansa did not smile or pretend to be polite.

"That is not all it was," Daenerys made a point to mention this, putting a claim on Jon. Sansa did not like this, she wanted to grab her by the silver white hair and stab her with something. Sansa's gloved hands clenched into fist.

"Are you and Jon in love then?" she said it so forcefully that Daenerys took a step back, she did not want to cause any problems that might tear her and Jon apart.

"Have a good day, Sansa of Winterfell," Daenerys said before turning to leave. Sansa's heart raced, tears pricking at her eyes. She could feel her nails digging into her flesh as her body shook. Before she knew it she let out a scream as she slammed her fist on the wall and fell to her knees, sobs taking over her body.

"Sansa?!" Arya said running to her sister. Arya had grown close with Sansa since Little Finger's demise, and she hadn't remembered seeing Sansa this upset since they killed Lady for what Nymeria did to Joffrey.

"I can't," Sansa clutched at her heart. How could Jon do this? How could he bring her here?"

"Was it the dragon queen?" Arya asked rushed as she held her sister's shoulders.

"She will tear us apart, Arya, she is not one of us," Sansa looked at Arya, anger and tears making her eyes red, "she will take Jon from m… us."

"From us?" Arya heard Sansa stop herself before saying me, and something finally clicked in her head. The reason Sansa had been loyal to Jon as king wasn't because she was afraid of what Arya would do nor because he was their older bastard brother. She loved him… in the way their mother loved their father. Arya's eyes grew wide at the thought, but she didn't say a thing, "she won't take him from us, I promise."

"How do you know?" Sansa said as the tears stopped flowing but her body still shuttered to get control back.

"You should know by now," Arya smiled wickedly, "she isn't a Stark, she isn't safe from Needle. I will keep this family together; no Targaryen or Lannister will ever separate us again. Let us go, we must appear together."

"You're right," she said as Arya helped her up. Sansa wiped the snow from her dress, and put back on her rock-solid face. She had a moment of relapse with her emotions, but she would not let anyone else see her that way.

* * *

Everyone had gathered in the great hall, anyone of great importance. Sansa sat in her usual chair, with Arya on one side of her and Jon on the other. She tried to not look at Daenerys who sat the opposite of Jon. Daenerys made a mental to note to how many times she saw Jon look over at his sister, and she felt something inside her boil.

"We will not bend the knee traitor!" someone yelled from crowd.

"I am no traitor," Jon said standing up angrily. The last time he was called traitor he was stabbed to death, "I did what I thought was best…"

"We said very clearly to you that we would not bow down to a Targaryen," Lady Mormont said standing up, her eyes glancing to her older brother who sat beside his queen, "we know where our loyalties lie. No Northerner will take up with a Targaryen."

"We told you how we felt the last time that your brother the King in the North took up with a foreign whore and cost us everything, and hear you are not only bending the knee to one giving away the North that doesn't belong to you, but clearly sharing the whores bed…" Lord Glover spat standing up next to Lyanna Mormont. Daeny noticed how Jon's face grimaced at it, lowering his head and glancing slightly at Sansa. Daenerys felt her blood begin to boil. She stood up to say a word but was cut off by another Northerner. She was angry that instead of standing up for her he was staring at another.

"We chose YOU, we believed in YOU and YOU let us down, Jon Snow," the northerner made it clear that the crown he had was gone, the faith he had gained from them was gone, their loyalty to him… gone.

"My Lords," Sansa said smoothly, not returning Sansa's eye, "Jon did do what he thought was best, he was swayed by the dragons and the armies. But he did so for us."

"He gave away his crown to the mad king's daughter," Royce said looking to his men, "the Vale never came for a King in the North. They came for Sansa of Winterfell and now as we watch him allow this foreign conqueror to take over what doesn't belong to her we know we were wrong to stay… for him. It is you we shall follow, you who we shall crown Queen of the North."

"Sansa," Jon said under his breath, knowing this would offend Daenerys. Sansa looked to Arya though, not wanting her to get mad for what was happening. Arya sighed and gave her a small nod, who cared who was King or Queen in the north if they had the armies.

"You need my armies and my dragons if you want to survive," Daenerys finally cut in, her voice dripping with venom.

"And you need ours," Sansa said even more venomous but now looking the dragon queen directly in the eye, "do not mistake me, Mother of Dragons, a wolf does not cower to the likes of you… dragon or not."

Jon looked to Sansa his eyes wide with expression before he looked at Daeny who stood up quickly, her chair falling to the ground as she stormed out of there. Jon shortly got up with Tyrion to follow Daenerys who was pacing back and forth muttering to herself. She did not see them until after they heard her say, "with fire and blood… I will burn them all!"

"My queen?" Tyrion asked hesitantly.

"The Northerners are fools," Daenerys still paced back and forth, "and Sansa _Stark_. She does not want to make an enemy of me. Ice has no chance against fire…"

"You need to remain calm," Tyrion said gently, the look she gave him nearly roasted him alive, "they need to see first what a wonderful queen you can be."

"Sansa is only trying to protect…"

"What is going on between you and your sister?" Daenerys asked cutting Jon off, intriguing Tyrion as to what she meant, "all you do is look at _her._ Was it SHE you were looking at when you were looking at me?"

"Daenerys," Jon protested he couldn't admit this. Incest was taboo in the North. Cousin marriages were the only real acceptable form of family relations in that department.

"I need to be alone," Daenerys stared at him for a moment, searching his eyes. She could see he cared for her, but she could see something else as well. She turned and left for her room leaving Tyrion and Jon alone.

"You need to be careful," Tyrion finally said what he had been wanting too. Jon looked at him quizzical, "I know what happened on that boat."

"I…" Jon tried to speak up but Tyrion was quicker then Jon this time.

"She is sensitive, and easily ruled by her emotions. She could be a great queen, but I have also seen the potential for worst. If you break her heart, she will try to break YOU. As from what she seems to think is happening… that means Sansa will be at stake and possibly the rest of us," Tyrion turned to go speak with Jorah and Davos to see what damage control could be done.

* * *

Jon sighed before walking to go speak with Daenerys, but something pulled him off his path and sent him to Sansa's room. Sansa opened the door as Jon began to knock, she was about to leave but was caught off guard by Jon. He stared at her, a need to touch her filling him. She tried to speak but she seemed caught in his eyes. Jon gave her a small smile, and she tried to return it as she leaned against her door.

"May I?" he finally asked.

"You may," she said softly before moving out of his way. Jon closed the door behind him, before looking at Sansa who looked at him with confusion. She didn't know how to respond whether to be angry or sad or happy. She fidgeted a little before swallowing nervously.

"I have missed you," Jon said gently.

"Apparently not for long," Sansa was referring to Daenerys.

"Sansa," he said stepping towards her to take her hand, "it's been long…"

"It has," she agreed. His hand felt warm as it rested against her cheek. She couldn't help but close her eyes and lean into it. His lips found her forehead as it had done in the past when things were more innocent or so they had thought. Then she felt his lips against hers, soft and warm. Sansa melted into his embrace, the taste of his mouth as he explored hers. It went from soft and gentle to passionate within seconds.

Sansa felt his hands unlacing her dress, and she couldn't resist removing his shirt. To see him in the light of the fire cracking in her fireplace. Her hands ran over the grooves of his stomach as his kisses trailed from her mouth down to her jawline and to her neck. She felt something in the pit of her stomach and lower she had never felt before. He had gotten the majority of her dress off as his mouth made its way down her chest until he reached the hard pink peeks of her enlarged breast. He felt more complete in this moment then he had with anyone else.

"Sansa," he moaned as he found her mouth once more, his hand exploring the exposed upper half of her body. Sansa could feel his manhood hard against her thigh they tightly pressed against each other. His hand moved down to her undergarments, reaching behind them to feel her wetness – catching her by surprise. Sansa's nails dug into his shoulder as she felt herself grow weak by this. But a image flashed in her mind that made her cringe – his lips on Daenerys, his hands on her body and tangled in her white hair.

"Stop," she said pushing him away. He was surprised by her reluctance, when it was he who was finally giving in to his immoral feelings for his sister.

"Did I do something wrong?" Jon asked heavy in breath.

"You are joking, right?" Sansa asked angrily, "I will never be able to get the image of you and her from my mind. Just be with the Dragon queen, there won't be any complications for your morals there," Sansa gripped her dress to cover herself. He still found the sight of her standing there, her curves peeking out, her red hair a mess and dancing in the flames – her scowl of anger.

"I am so sorry Sansa… I promise you have nothing to be jealous of," Jon tried to go to her.

"You are right… how could I be jealous when you were never mine to begin with," Sansa's voice betrayed her and he could hear the pain in her voice.

"I don't want to hurt you," Jon said feeling his heart beat rapidly in his chest.

"Then leave me be," Sansa held her breath afraid she might cry in front of him. Jon nodded before leaving her chambers, feeling foolish for having even gone. She was his sister, and that was against his morals and honor. Jon went to find Arya to speak with her about what had been going on when he ran into Sam… and Bran.


	3. Chapter 3: A life of Lies

Authors note: This chapter has been only mildly proof read, but its hard between calls at work and no way to at where I am staying at as I am technically in-between homes at the moment. Please bear with me as this is sort of rushed and I will update later, but shoot if Dan and Dave can get away with rushing crap and forcing awkward things why cant I? Haha! But I appreciated all the reviews and didn't want to leave you hanging! I wish we could do a petition to get Dan and Dave's attention to how the story would realistically go as their version is starting to make sense.

 **Chapter 3: A life of Lies**

The fire cracked in the background as silence hung in the air. Jon stared at the wall letting all of what Sam had told him sink in. Bran had remained silent while Sam spoke about what Bran had seen. He felt he could relay this to Jon much more gently then Bran could at this point. What had gone from a happy reunion between Jon and Sam had gone to a bitter silent and unhappy reunion.

Jon sat eerily still, his eyes hardly blinking as he took in the reality of what had happened. Two major factors that tore at him. One: He wasn't a Stark and Two: He had bedded his own aunt. He tried to let it all sink in while fighting the urge of disgust in the pit of his stomach. He knew now why he was so drawn to her now, because she was his family.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"How do you know this to be true?" Jon ignored Sam and looked at Bran finally. But what he saw was not the little Bran he knew, he saw a stranger looking through Bran's eyes.

"I see many things, and this is one of them," Bran said softly, "I saw your birth, and my father promising your mother to keep you safe from Robert. I saw your father marry my aunt Lyanna. I watched the progression from each individual's timeline to make sure this was not false and that I did not miss a thing before I brought this to you. You are the true heir to the Iron throne."

"I don't want it," Jon turned back away, "I don't believe it."

"It is your birth right," Bran was cold, "it is also your duty."

"I already bent the knee to Daenerys," Jon snapped unintentionally. The stress and burden slowly building upon him. How much more did the world want to throw at him? He grew up a bastard which was hard enough, he took the black, was betrayed by his own brothers, and then forced to be the one to lead against the Night King and his army.

"You bent the knee to your aunt as Jon Snow, not as Aegon Targaryen - _your true person_ ," Sam reminded Jon. Jon tried to not shutter and the word aunt, "any promise you made as Jon Snow is now mute."

"You are the song of Ice and Fire," Bran said plainly as if it were no big deal, "the prince that was promised."

"I don't want it, I don't want any of it," Jon said standing up and storming from the room. Jon cased the hall quickly, anger fueling his movements.

"Jon," Daenerys said with delight to see him. She had hoped he come to make amends with her for not standing up for her to the Northerners. He looked at her and looked away - brushing past her without a word. She could feel the ice-cold gesture like she laid naked in the snowy grounds of Winterfell. She looked back to where he disappeared from her sight he hadn't even shot her a glance back. Daeny held her hand to her pained heart.

* * *

Jon finally arrived in the crypts of Winterfell - where he stood in front of the statue of Ned. He held the torch up but didn't study the cracks in the stone replica of Eddard Stark, his mind was too preoccupied by thoughts of what if's. He was lost deeply in his thoughts, his emotions spiraling from within like a tornado ready to destroy him. Jon turned to leave but found Arya waiting silently in the shadows.

"What brings you down here?" Arya asked stepping out of the darkness, her arms tucked behind her back.

"I needed to think," Jon said looking away from her.

"About?" Arya pried, she wanted to know what Jon's intentions were.

"Who I am," Jon was soft in voice as he said it.

"And who are you?" Arya stood beside him but did not look his way.

"Not who I thought I was," Jon sighed. Arya looked over to him pressing for more, "my whole life has been a lie."

"Hasn't all of ours?" Arya asked realistically.

"I am not a Stark," Jon said looking to Arya, she had grown up so much and surely changed even more.

"Does that matter?" Arya smiled at him, it was small but warm yet quizzical like there was a master plan behind it.

"I suppose to you it wouldn't," he smiled at her.

"You should talk to her," Arya nudged, "she will get over whatever it is that has her so angry with you."

"You look afraid of her," Jon teased.

"I am afraid of no one," Arya smirked, "but she is in a rare scary state."

"I suppose you are right," Jon gave another small smile once before turning to leave. He needed to tell Sansa the truth.

As Jon and Arya left the crypt they saw a rider dismounting his horse. They both recognized the Lannister meeting with Sansa and Brienne in the court yard. Jon swiftly walked to where Jaime stood taking Sansa's hand and kissing it. Jon hated the way this made his blood boil.

"Did your queen send you?" Jon asked with Arya trailing behind him, a thirst for blood in her eyes.

"I come to pledge to a new Queen, I hear it is now Lady Stark in charge?" Jaime smiled wickedly, "I've always had an admiration for the Stark ladies."

"Cersei didn't send you?" Sansa asked looking from Jon to Jaime.

"No," he said somberly, his demeanor changing, " – she would rather see you all be killed off and worry about the remainder after her enemy is gone."

"Look who was right," Sansa said with a smile before looking to Jon, "you can't trust Cersei."

"You can't trust a Lannister," Jon replied feeling something weird happening between Jaime and Sansa.

"You trusted one," Sansa's face went blank her smile fading, "the one whose queen you chose."

"So, there are to be three queens now?" Jaime asked with amusement, "this should get good. My bet is on this one."

"Charming," Sansa said not quite amused by him. Sansa looked at him thoroughly, trying to remember him. He was always present but in the background, never really caused her any harm but never stood up for her either, "Brienne take Jaime to his room."

"Jon, can I talk to you?" Jon flinched when he heard her voice, Sansa's eyes darting over to the white-haired dragon queen. Letting out a large sigh Sansa shook her head and turned to walk away.

"Sansa, wait –"Jon tried to protest but Daenerys was now blocking his view.

"We need to talk," she said angrily, "you need to tell me what is going on."

"Now is not the time," Jon sighed his hands covering his face as he sighed in frustration.

"You will speak to me now, I am your queen or have you forgotten?" she said sharply, her eyes large in warning.

"Of course," Jon didn't want to argue.

"What is wrong with you?" she snapped, "why have you been avoiding me, and so… cold?"

"I found something out that I suppose is time to tell you," Jon finally looked at her. Her face fell into one of confusion and concern.

"My brother, Bran, do you remember how I told you he was the 3 eyed raven and can see whatever he wishes?" Jon asked trying to keep eye contact, she nodded yes, "well he informed me I am not in fact a Stark. I am the son of my aunt Lyanna…"

"Is that all that bothers you?" she laughed a chuckle like everything was okay and forgiven.

"… and the son of Rhaegar Targaryen."

"My brother?" she asked taken back, "no. That can't be. He was married already."

"He married my mother in a secret wedding before I was born after annulling his marriage Ellia Martell," Jon said his eyes telling her what he felt in regard to this.

"So, you…" she tried to get the words out, "you're my… my nephew?"

"Aye," Jon looked at her, his eyes full of emotion.

"And we…" she tried to straighten herself as she paused, "so if you are my nephew. Then you are the heir to the iron throne?"

"I don't want it," Jon said quickly. Daenerys was silent for a while. Finally, her eyes met his - full of emotion.

"Targaryen's wed brother to sister for centuries. It was common for related family members to wed. We don't have to give up," she said desperately, "we could rule together."

"Daenerys," he said in a desperate plea, "I am still a Northerner. In the North it is looked down upon. That was the past, and the Northerner's would not accept such disgrace."

"You would refuse me then?" she asked her chest heaving in anger and emotion, and he realized he could possibly tear down everything he worked so hard to build.

"I just need time," Jon said quickly. She was silent as her mouth quivered and her jaw clenched, she nodded once before turning to leave. He didn't know what he was going to do. He needed to speak with Sansa. When Jon got back into the castle he saw Jaime and Sansa walking together, she chuckled at whatever the King Slayer had said and Jon saw only red, "Sansa!"

"Jon?" she asked looking around for him, as he finally came into view she could see the emotions playing on his face.

"What are you doing?" he asked not so casually.

"Talking," Sansa said in a way that sounded like she called him stupid.

"I need to speak with you," he said taking her hand surprising her. Sansa looked to Jaime who seemed quite amused.

"I shall return, Jaime," she said curtly before following Jon, "what has gotten into you?"

"Why are you alone with him?" Jon asked with concern in his eye, his nerves had already been put on test that day – he was having a hard time knowing how to act or who he was.

"I am capable of being alone with another person," Sansa snapped back.

"But him… not him," Jon turned from her to pace. What had gotten into him, suddenly he wasn't acting like the Jon she knew.

"You cannot tell me what to do anymore," Sansa said heatedly. Jon turned quickly, grabbing her face and pulling her towards him as his lips landed harshly on hers. Sansa wrapped her hands around his wrist as she pulled away from him. She glanced around to make sure there was no witness to the brother sister interaction, "Jon Snow! What has gotten into you!"

"I am not Jon Snow," he said loudly still holding onto one of her wrist.

"What are you talking about, you speak in riddles," she asked angrily pulling her wrist harshly from him.

"I am not the son of Eddard Stark," Jon said his voice finally softening as he looked her in the eyes. Whatever strange reaction that had over taken Jon and caused him to be so abrupt seemed to melt away slowly with her presence.

"Now you are just being petty, don't dishonor him so," she crossed her arms as she glared at him, "has your beloved dragon queen tainted the North and your home you so much?"

"I am not your brother Sansa," Jon stepped towards her but her hands flew to his chest to stop him. She looked at him with confusion, "I am the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. Bran told me himself."

"What?!" confusion taking over her as she processed what she heard. It took a moment, her eyes searching his for any sign of a lie, "so you and Daenerys… you're…"

"She is my aunt," he said solemnly. She tried to hold in her laugh but she let it out, both nerves and amusement.

"On the bright side, at least I'm not your sister, but still… you…. With your aunt?" she tried to not get sick, even though in a way she thought she had similar relations with her brother so she had no right to judge, "so we are only cousins?"

"I am not a Stark, nor am I Snow," he said softly, "I am a Targaryen."

"Jon," Sansa tried to say but he stopped her.

"I am not Jon, I was named Aegon," Jon said disappointed, "my life was a lie. Apparently so was yours since you spent your whole like thinking I was your brother."

"To be honest I never thought much of you at all growing up, not until recently. However, you will always be Jon to me," she said taking his hand in hers, "and you will always be a Stark."

"Thank you, Sansa," he said smiling a small smirk. He placed a gentle hand on her cheek, and pressed his warm lips against her forehead. She smiled in return taking his hand and giving it a firm squeeze unaware someone was lurking and watching.


	4. Chapter 4: Ego

**Chapter 4: Ego**

Sansa stood in her usual spot overlooking Winterfell: her _home_. The cold wind tousled her fire red hair, as it painfully kissed at her exposed skin. She welcomed the pain – a reminder she was alive. She tried to take in everything that happened so quickly from the moments she thought she was in love with her brother, the pain at the idea of him marrying another, the death of Baelish, the return of her brother and sister, the return of Jon and his silver haired dragon conqueror, and the truth that Jon was not in fact her brother after all. The deepest darkest thought in the form of a question: does knowing the truth make any difference?

She watched the way Daenerys still stalked Jon her nephew, and Sansa wanted to be grossed out by it – but how could she? Jon was her cousin after all, and though cousin marriages were common in Westeros – she loved him before she knew he was only her cousin. Her sigh clung to the ice cold air with a life of its own, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. She closed her eyes taking her back to Jon's lips on hers, and the way she would catch him looking at her. His eyes would betray him and devour her, but she wanted nothing more than that.

Sansa's attention was quickly knocked off course by the sound of shouting at the gate as the large doors opened – letting in a swarm of people. With haste she lifted her dress so she could swiftly make way to the scene, her steps echoing against the cold stone walls as she quickly moved down the stone steps. Her chest heaved painfully as she tried attempted running, the cold air making it hard to do so along with her many layers of clothes. When Sansa had reached the gate she saw many injured and frightened people making their way through, but the one who caught her eye was the red hair of Tormund. Jon passesd by her, and though he glances her way he does not stop until he reaches his old friend.

When Sansa finally reaches ear shot of them she is frightened by what she hears. The Night King has one of Daenerys' dragons as his deadly pet. The knowledge that the wall has come down truly makes everything Jon has said so much more real than it had been. Sansa turned to a few of her guards instructing them to find shelter for the stragglers while she calls a council meeting to discuss the next move. Now there were only a few castles between the Night King's army and Winterfell - more fodder for his army. Arya and Brienne had both shown Sansa a few tricks to defend herself with sword or knife, and though she pretended to be brave: she was terrified. Sansa was quick to send out orders to those around to prepare in case more survivors or stragglers make their way into the city gates.

"My Lady," Jaime's hand folded over her shoulder catching her off guard.

"Sir Jaime," she said quickly, her heart racing. Jaime made note of her snow pale skin and the bright pink of her cheeks and lips. She was so different then Cersei, and he could see her as every bit of his sisters rival now in beauty and strength.

"Please, just Jaime," he smirked as he breathed onto his cold hand. He was having a hard time adjusting to the freezing temperatures as he had only ever known summer.

"Then call me Sansa," she said with a small smile still not fully trusting the other Lannister brother. As she began to turn she swiftly turned back to add, "as long as there are no others around."

"Naturally," he smiled and nodded. She noticed the way his blue eyes sparkled at her, his golden hair fell onto his forehead and rather than despising it for being like her enemy – she found it charming.

"Did you need something? Or did you simply wish to discuss name formalities?" Sansa asked with curiosity dripping in her tone, and reservation in her eyes.

"I simply wanted to aid you. What would you have me do," Jaime said with seriousness his blue eyes steely and ready to serve.

"Anything?" she asked with a tone that had him taken back.

"Well – I would never refuse a queen _any_ desire," he said teasingly. Jon from a far watched the interaction, along with Daenerys who had finally connected the dots. Sansa blushed harder than before – clearing her throat as she backed away a little.

"I will need someone to be my right hand man," Sansa said as she crossed her arms and stood tall - putting back on her face of authority. She glanced around spotting Jon watching her interaction, and for a second it takes her back.

"There are many things one can do with a hand," Jaime stepped towards her, "Anything specific you would…"

"Good Lord man, have some decorum in the presence of a lady - or a queen," Tyrion spoke up as he entered their conversation.

"Simply trying to do what you couldn't manage little brother," Jaime chuckled deviously, although the youngest Lannister showed no amusement in response.

"Enough," Sansa said finally regaining her poise, "I need someone who can be there and execute orders as well advise me in moments of need."

"Sort of like a hand of the king – or queen?" Jaime asked as his curiosity had peaked.

"Yes, I suppose so. Brienne is already head of the King's guard I put together, but I need someone who can work well with her – Brienne recommended you," Sansa said looking at Jaime.

"I could have no higher honor my lady," Jaime said with seriousness, no more jokes or humor in his tone.

"Well then you should meet with Brienne and get her to the council chambers immediately," Sansa said firmly. Jaime nodded before taking his leave, leaving prints of his boots in the snow behind him.

"Well done milady," Tyrion smiled up at her. Sansa let out a small smile, as she owed him for not forcing her into the marriage sprung upon them.

"I never apologized for leaving in the manner that I did - or the time," Sansa said looking away, taking a deep breath. She quickly cut in before he could say anything, "I am not sorry I left. I did not belong there nor did I want to be there. But I am sorry for leaving you in that predicament, as my leaving probably didn't help your situation. I hope you know it had nothing to do with you. Baelish tricked me and used me, but ultimately it got me home."

"You would have made one fierce Lannister," he smiled up at her his eyes full of compassion and mourning for a life he had secretly longed for with her. Before she could interrupt he jumped back in, "but you do make a much fiercer Stark. It was foolish to think you could cage a wolf amongst lions."

"Thank you Tyrion," Sansa reached out when he went to grab her hand, his lips warming the back of her hand.

"Should you ever need me, Lady Stark, I will come when needed," Tyrion promised her as he released her hand and walked off into the distance for the meeting.

* * *

Sansa sat close to the fire, removing her furs and outer layers as she let the warmth lick her skin. When Jon walked in he saw what he could only describe as regal and queen like – what he imagined even a goddess would be envious of. He took a deep breath exhaling it as his eyes dropped to the ground and then with a lowered head glanced around the room while finding his _Kings_ chair. The room filled with warm bodies as the chatter grew louder. Sansa could feel fear radiating off others and she tried to not let it penetrate her aura. Daenerys finally made her way into the room – all noise dying as they watched her most with malice and disgust.

"What is she doing here?" Sansa heard Lord Glover's loud voice booming the insult intentionally.

"She is a guest," Sansa said sharply, but giving Lord Glover a small private nod.

"Not one we invited," Lady Mormont added in.

"But she is a guest," Jon added firmly, "and right now we need all the power we can get."

"I think I have a solution that will fit all," Daenerys finally spoke up pretending that she was not bothered by the insult laid upon her, and faking a calm smile. She put a hand in the air calling for silence, but none was given. when Sansa asked the room for silence - the others held their speech for a moment to let their invader share her idea with them all.

"It is clear you do not want a Targaryen sitting on your throne," Daenerys tried to sound like this didn't bother her. But in her mind she had calculated the perfect block between her enemies, and a way to keep Jon without fighting him for the throne, "and I do not wish for more war then is necessary. I would like nothing more than peace. Jon Snow has already bent the knee to me, but it is clear there is a queen in the North you would rather rally behind. Jon would you like to tell them the truth now?"

"Daeny!" Jon snapped in surprise.

"It is only right to inform them of the truth. You told me and they told me there will be no Targaryen welcome in the North," Daenerys smiled at him, "now prove your word – and you loyalty."

"Jon," Sansa breathed nervously knowing that the north was not going to stay theirs if the truth came out of his heritage. But now the room was abuzz with a curiosity that would not be quenched with anything other than the truth. Jon let out a huge sigh looking down at his hands as he came to terms with what this meant…

"My friends – I did not know until recently, but I am not who any of us thought I was. I am not the son of Ned Stark," Jon said with a heavy heart, his hands clenched into fist as he felt something close to anger and despise growing in him for what game Daeny was playing, "I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. They were married in a secret ceremony that makes me legitimate."

"You are the rightful heir to the Iron throne then?" Ser Davos asked feeling full of surprise.

"I am the rightful heir," Daenerys growled with anger. She would not accept that anyone had any right over her, after all she went through to get there, "however, I will leave the North to Sansa of Winterfell letting her be the rightful queen as long as you agree to fight alongside me against Cersei and sign a peace treaty."

"Sansa," Arya said looking to her sister with mixed feelings, "he is still our family…"

"Deal!" they heard the other lords shouting as Sansa stared wide eyed at Jon whose eyes locked with hers. He nodded to her signaling that it was a good deal and she should take it – even though he didn't want to leave her or his home. His goal had always been to protect his family, and to save mankind from the White Walkers. In the end this solved most of the issues they had.

"This is still his home!" Arya shouted. But no one heard her.

"It will always be my home, Arya," Jon said swallowing his emotions as he looked to his cousin, "and you'll always be my family."

"There is one more stipulation," Daenerys said still not smiling. Her eyes burned with flames as she looked to Sansa, and Sansa could see that Daenerys was not about to play fair. When the room was silent again Daenerys finally broke her stare from Sansa to look at the rest of the crowd, "I will require the Lannister army to be on my side of this war. Jaime Lannister you are the rightful heir of Casterly Rock, are you not?"

"Daenerys?!" Tyerion asked with surprise. He had hoped that with her taking Westeros he would be given his homeland for service to her crown.

"Silence," she snapped not even bothering to look at him, her eyes still locked on Jaime's.

"Yes, I technically am," Jaime said quizzically.

"Very well, then if the North wishes to remain independent from a Targaryen rule – Sansa will marry Ser Jaime of Casterly rock and take control of the Lannister army."

"Out of the question!" Jon snapped standing up, his hands slamming into the table. His eyes now raged with a fire as he glared at his aunt.

"Then no deal," Daenerys said slowly her eyes squinted into a scowl.

"I'll agree if Lady Sansa will have me, but only if she truly wishes it," Jaime said breaking the tension. He would not let another Lannister be forced upon the Stark girl he had promised to protect.

"I…. I…" Sansa didn't know how to respond her eyes moving around the room as the lords and ladies encouraged her to say yes, but Jon's look told her no.

"Sansa," Jaime said softly to her, "you can say no… you are a queen no matter what she says."

"Jaime," Sansa breathed quietly - feeling her heart beat fast and her chest heave quickly. The room spun with the panic crushing in on her at the idea of another arranged marriage. Sansa had planned to never marry again, and yet Jaime's words seemed to calm her slightly.

"I…" she tried to speak out with an answer, but she couldn't find the words.

"Sansa, are you okay?" Jaime asked leaning into her - quietly whispering in her ear, "you can say no. I will do whatever you wish of me that will help end all this war."

"I never wanted to marry again," she whispered her confession, but her eyes remained locked onto her hands as she sat frozen.

"Our marriage would be nothing like your last," Jaime said honestly, placing a hand on hers. She now looked from his hand on hers over into his brown eyes, "I would never hurt you. I would never force you to do anything you didn't want me to. I would respect you and never take advantage. You will remain in charge, and I will never undermine that. But you still don't have to say yes."

"Thank you," Sansa whispered back as she slowly looked back up at the crowd around her, their eyes piercing her like dragons - and at Daenerys smug face, "I will accept all terms except one. Jon is free to do as he wishes. If he wants to stay in Winterfell then he can, but if he wants to leave to help you rule Kingslanding then that is his decision."

"Very well, as long as the marriage between house Lannister and Stark happen before the taking of Kingslanding," Daenerys agreed pretending like politically it was the right move to have the largest army in Westeros on their side, but really she knew with Jaime ruling as King Consort with Sansa – Jon wouldn't want to stick around to watch it happen. Daenerys smiled at Sansa's defeated nod, "very well. Let us plan a wedding - and war."

The room was buzzing again with chatter as it slowly emptied. Sansa had turned from them all as she now watched the flames dance in the fireplace. One of her hands rested against her mouth as she took in all that happened in such little time. Jon followed Daeny out as the last to leave, but stopped at the door – closing it before Daenerys could turn to say protest.

"Sansa," Jon spoke up.

"Leave," was all she could muster.

"Sansa please," Jon begged walking towards her.

"You brought her here, you bent the knee to her," Sansa's voice broke, "and now we must all pay the price for it."

"I am so sorry," Jon whispered. Sansa knew he wasn't going to leave her be, and so she left her self – leaving Jon to stay there broken full of regret.

* * *

The day comes and goes, and Sansa does not leave her suite. She thinks over what her life might be like, and now the choices made for her. She knows that everyone else is taking care of preparations for the great fight against the dead, and this allowed her to mope freely in her chambers. Sansa does not join them for dinner and is surprised by a knock at the door.

"Jon?" she asked after opening the door, and seeing him standing there with a plate of food and lemon cake.

"You need to eat," he said walking in.

"I am fine," she says softly, "you can leave."

"Do not push me away," Jon said taking her hand, but just as swiftly she removes her hand from his.

"I am engaged now Jon," Sansa turned from him to look at her small fire that has her room filled with warmth. Jon studies her in her long silk night slip. The soft mint green of it made her fire red hair brighter and more vibrant, and the material clung to her curves – giving way her body's secrets.

"I didn't want that," Jon said grabbing her upper arms so she couldn't pull away from him again. He looked down into her eyes, "all I wanted since you came back into my life was you."

"But you chose her," Sansa said desperately trying to hold down the sob into her chest.

"Only because I thought I couldn't have you," Jon's eyes searched hers for any sign of hope, "I had given up any ideas of a wife and family, and I didn't need it - until you. You made me want what I thought I could never have, and it hurt knowing I still couldn't have it with you - "

"All I wanted was you," Sansa's voice broke as she said it, cutting him off - not wanting to hear his excuse for why he turned to Daenerys.

"I wish I had known the truth sooner," Jon said desperately before crashing his lips into hers. She pushed him off and tried to squirm away, but his grip was strong.

"I am engaged now Jon, it's wrong," Sansa lied, but she didn't want to get any more hurt then she already was. Her eyes could not lie as well as her words, and Jon's lips crashed against hers again.

"You are mine," Jon growled between heated kisses as he pushed her up against her wall.

"Jon," she moaned as his kisses trailed down her neck, and she lost her will to fight him. The sound of her purring his name made his member harden harder than ever before. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone. The connection and chemistry so strong that it felt like they were made for each other, and he knew she had to feel it too. His hands found her waste as he lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapping tightly around him as he had her pushed up against the wall. Taking off where they had been interrupted before - before he had left home. Jon quickly spun around still holding her wrapped around him, his member throbbing and aching with desire against her clothed womanhood. He quickly found the bed plopping them both down.

"Jon," he could hear the protest beginning to rise in her voice, but he ignore it as he grabbed the bottom of her silk gown and lifted it up and over her – fully exposing her perfect naked body. He placed a finger under her jaw as he slowly traced down her neck and over the peaks of her breast and down her stomach until he reached her thigh. She squirmed below him at the touch of his hand. He pulled his shirt off exposing his strong chest and muscled abdomen, along with a lot of moon shaped scars. Before Sansa could say anything about them he dropped down over her, and place his mouth on hers once more.

Sansa's hands found their way to his chest as they explored his muscled torso and arms. Jon's trails quickly moved down her neck until he was at her breast, and gently sucked and licked at her nipples and surrounding skin. His hot breath against her skin left goose bumps, and then as he was enjoying her breast with his mouth his hand slid down between her legs. Sansa let out a squeak as his fingers dipped inside of her, and feeling her heat and wetness. She moaned more as his fingers came back at to begin circling gently her womanly mound.

"Jon," she squeaked unsure of what was happening or what he was doing. He just smiled and kissed her lips reassuring. Sansa locked her arms around his neck, her breath heavy and labored before he placed another kiss to her lips and then wickedly smiling before he began to trail kisses down her breast to her abdomen, and then her thigh. She giggled a little as it ticked, especially his facial hair, but then let out another squeak of surprise when his warm tongue took over for what his fingers hand been doing on her womanhood.

She moaned in surprise, wiggling as his warm tongue moved around and around causing sensations she had never felt before. He began to use his fingers as well with his tongue and before she knew it a strange feeling had taken over her body causing her to spasm and call out. Jon chuckled as he kissed back up her skin. She breathed heavily and his eyes met hers taking in her look of wonder and euphoria. He knew that in her marriage Ramsay had only hurt her in the marital bed, and never brought her pleasure – he was glad to know he was the first and selfish enough to hope he would be the only one. Sansa's hands moved down to his britches to help him unlace, but her hands were a shaky mess of nerves. He quickly unlaced himself and discarded his pants.

"Sansa," he said softly as he looked down at her, feeling her flesh against his. He took in her beauty as he felt something swell inside of him something that told him that he loved her like no other. Sansa smiled up at him, placing her hand on his cheek and raising herself up to take his lips with her own. Jon was quickly overcome and consumed with a need to be in her again. Her creamy white legs wrapped over his as he placed himself between her legs. She bit her lip looking up at him, searching his eyes and finding his soul. She felt the tip of his member brush against her womanhood, and she shuddered nervously preparing for pain. This made Jon sad, and he knew that he had to show her what it was supposed to be like.

Jon slowly entered her. Sansa gasped as his member slowly slid in throbbing as the walls of her womanhood contracted around the length of his member. Her nails dug into his skin as he slowly moved in and out of her, occasionally rolling his hips to hit all the spots inside of her that made her body go mad with pleasure. Sansa moaned into his shoulder as her nails dug in more. The rhythm getting faster – in and out. Sansa did not know it could feel like this, nor that she could get so wet. All her fears of sex now being stroked away with each powerful quickened thrust from Jon, and Sansa had never felt more safe or alive.

Sansa felt something else stirring inside of her the more he rolled his hips in a circle, before she knew it she was coming undone again, but this time felt different with him inside of her – it lasted longer. Sansa gasped wrapping her legs around him as he came undone inside her spilling his seed into her, his body spasming as it happened. Sansa breathed heavily beneath him as he looked down at her still inside her connected as one. Jon collapsed onto her – his head resting on her bare breast while she stroked his dark curls with her soft hands. The feeling of her chest rising and lowering slowly put him to sleep.

Authors note: thank you for your patience. So sorry this took so long! I would love reviews! Sorry that I RUSHED it quite a bit, I managed to squeeze two chapters into one.


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